


Triumphant Wilson Smut Drabbles

by Dara999



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Wessin, Wesson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-11 23:26:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18434303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dara999/pseuds/Dara999
Summary: 2 part prompt work on Wilson as king 'experimenting' with Wes.  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)





	1. Prompt: Triumphant Wilson pounding the shit out of Wes

**Author's Note:**

> AN: usually a new line for dialogue is only used when a new person speaks but because the dialogue is rather one-sided here I did it to break up the text.

Resting an elbow on the armrest of the throne Wilson sneered. Life on the throne was boring at best, sure the deaths were entertaining and They were satisfied but he wasn’t. Where was the mental stimulation? The cavern was dark and empty, all he was able to do was watch. He had done everything; summoned hounds, giants, experimented with wildlife, even messing with Maxwell didn’t cheer him up anymore. How did that idiot spend fifteen god forsaken years in this place? The simple minded were just gifted with being easily entertained he supposed. Slumping into the chair, he made an annoyed ‘tch’ with his tongue. 

Then the idea struck him.

Perhaps it wasn’t his mind that was losing interest but his body, which in turn caused him to depress due to hormonal imbalances. When he had come to the throne room he found Maxwell being forced to survive without caring for his physical form, he had allowed it to wither away as he gave into Their pressures. Miss Charlie was the one tothank for that, but They didn’t have leverage on Wilson, he didn’t feel the need to give in. Of course, then there was the question of what to do. One action screamed at him, quite literally. His former psyche fought hard when the though fluttered through his mind, if he wanted to break his former self, this would be the way to do it. There was a fair selection of people to play with; he had his favourites of course and for a first attempt at this he should stick to one that was less likely to fight back. A grin crept across his face as the voice in the back of his head begged to do anything else. 

While he couldn’t do anything personally in his true physical form, Wilson had free reign over the mental and plenty of dark magic to mess with. This should be fun.

That night when Wes fell asleep he found himself standing in the throne room instead of lying in his tent like any other night. Dark flames lit up an open hallway, shapes just out of sight in the edges of the light. What was he doing here? How did he get here? A sound in the darkness made him jump. Deciding standing there wasn’t the best option he made his way down the hall, strange sounds coming from out of reach places. The hall lead to a large open space with a man sitting in a chair of some kind. It didn’t look particularly comfortable and yet the man had an almost smug grin on his face. This man. This was the man that saved him from the box! But something felt off. He didn’t seem like he exact same man that fought the clockworks, then again, that hair was unmistakable. Cocking his head Wes gave a wave; to his surprise the man gave a wave back and then gestured for him to come closer. Wes was hesitant but complied, it did seem to be the same man after all.

Wilson was itching to see what he could get away with, he also didn’t want to risk throwing himself out of mind by rushing in and causing his former self to fight back. He had planned an elaborate compromise, seducing both parties. “Evening Wes. I’ve been eager for your arrival. Please, take a seat.” Within seconds a chair materialised out of thin air. Wes only stared at it, concerned about this whole damn situation.

“Come on, it’s just a chair. I’m more likely to bite you!” Wes sheepishly smiled as the other man let out a laugh, the chair itself was cold to the touch and sent shivers down his spine.

“You seem so nervous! My goodness, no wonder, I haven’t even introduced myself! Wilson Percival Higgsbury at your service!” Wilson felt annoyance bubble inside him as the other man just kept giving him that sheepish stare and smile. Maybe this wasn’t going to work out like he wanted. He had two options; either dance back and forth for a little or grab him by the hair and force himself onto the other man. While he was more partial to the latter, he still was a gentleman and gentlemen courted people.

Don’t get him wrong, Wes was thrilled to see the man who had saved him, he wished he could say thank you. It was only the foreboding feeling that he got from Maxwell that prevented him from hugging the other man in thanks.

“Is it the change in demeanour that’s bothering you?”  Giving a nod, Wes wondered if the man could read his mind, but then again he wouldn’t have asked if he could read his mind.

“There’s been a change in management. Maxwell is no longer in charge, instead it’s yours truly. Now before you go cursing me for keeping you here, I must let you know that there are catches to ruling. I can’t change the rules of the game, but perhaps I can make it more bearable for the both of us. Do you like science Wes?” Drumming his fingers against the arm of the throne, Wilson watched the other man carefully. Wes only gave a shrug in response. 

“Would you like to take part in an experiment with me?” This time Wes frowned, he wasn’t a lab rat. As the other man stood Wes felt like he needed to leave. This was creepy and unpleasant and he didn’t want to be a part of it. Wilson put his hands on the other chair’s arm rests, leaning over Wes, causing him to cower away from Wilson and keep his face as far away as possible. God fear was intoxicating.

“It’s a very straightforward method. Allow me to give a demonstration.” He lent forward and pressed his lips against Wes’s. Wes was shocked, this was not what he was expecting at all. When the warmth from his lips pulled away he found a deep yearning for more; was it the fact he’d been trapped and alone for so long or something more.

“Any objections?” He just stared at the other man, mouth agape. He wanted to say something, but what? He couldn’t talk, but he had never been lost for words. “Fantastic. You scratch my back, I scratch yours~” Wilson moved forward again, bringing the man into another kiss. Wes froze, his mind and body confused about what they wanted. He tried to snap out of it and pull himself away from the kiss but was interrupted when he felt pressure on his groin. 

Wilson felt his former self squirm from within, it would have been satisfying were it not for the amount of focus it took to keep him buried. When Wes started to try and pull away, Wilson could feel his mind trying to tear itself from his form. In one swift motion he brought his knee up and rested it against the other man’s crotch, putting controlled weight on it.

Wilson ran his hand into Wes’s hair, grasping it firmly and tilting the mime’s head as he stood straight. Now towering over the man he put more pressure on him, causing Wes to grope at Wilson’s waist and respond to the kiss. He was in control of the situation; not the wimp, not the mime, not even  _Them_ , **he** was and he was going to do everything his former self never dreamed of.

Wes felt the warmth of the other’s mouth move from his own, the pressure from his crotch leaving as well. He wasn’t sure exactly the moment he had closed his eyes but he had and he had to open them again to see why Wilson had stopped. Wilson went back to the throne, sitting back down without breaking eye contact with Wes. 

“So the Frenchman knows how to kiss~ Are the other stereotypes true?~” Wes could feel his cheeks flush, thankful for the make-up on his face hiding it. “Come show me what you’ve got and I’ll let you speak.” Speak? He could do that? Although this wasn’t exactly the same man that had saved him, perhaps there was still him inside there, reserving a fondness for the man he saved. Wes hadn’t spoken in months (even longer? He'd lost track of time) and Wilson wasn’t an unattractive man, quite the opposite in fact. He couldn’t deny his attraction for the man, especially after what happened moments before. This is what Wilson wanted wasn’t it? There was no harm in a kiss or two, maybe a little contact and it had been so long that an invitation could hardly be ignored. He stood and took a few steps forward, heart pounding in his chest as well as elsewhere. Besides, if he could just say thank you for saving him, maybe they could take a few steps back and talk.

Wilson could help but grin as Wes did as he was told. No wonder Maxwell was such a stuck-up prick, such a level of power was truly blinding. Here he was thinking that controlling the seasons was a feat of power, now he was, bending the will of others with nothing but his pure intellect, manipulating the raw, primal recesses of the mind. The mime hesitated in front of the throne, obviously needing a little encouragement. A flick of the wrist sent the mime stumbling onto the throne as a shadow hand shoved him forcefully towards the scientist. “You know, I think when people say 'fall head over heels’ they don’t mean it literally.” Wes frowned and Wilson laughed. “I thought you’d appreciate the humour!” Wes lets out a breath of a chuckle, he wasn’t sure whether him not taking this seriously was a good or bad thing. Wilson sat up, jostling his hips as he did so. Wes put his hands on Wilson’s shoulders to stabilise himself, not expecting the bolt of pleasure that shot up his spine.

“Am I misinterpreting your body or do you want more?” Wes felt flushed, looking away, unable to make eye contact. This was one hell of a situation to be put in. The mime’s throat tightened as Wilson put his hands on their hips and placed pressure on the front and back of their pelvis. As much as he hated to admit it, he did want to give into the desire alone. It had been so long… he was offering… he was funny and nice enough in his own way… The mime allowed himself to kiss Wilson again. This time he didn’t hold back, what he couldn’t say in words he made up in action. 

It was so simple. All he had done was touch some nerves and crack a joke and the other man was his. The feeling of shame his former self felt was smothered by the pride of success. Wilson could feel excitement fizz inside of him, it was going remarkably well. Why not celebrate and let himself enjoy it?~ He’d had enough of being on the bottom of the formation, there was more control the other way around. Wilson stood, causing Wes to fall to the floor. Without missing a beat Wilson knelt over Wes and straddled him, causing the man to let out a small moan. It took a few moments for Wes to register he had made a sound. 

“Testing, testing. Mon dieu!” Wilson let out a chuckle and lent over him.  

“Cat had your tongue, but now I’m top cat around here and I said I would let you speak.”

“M-merci monsieur. F-for this and the saving me, I wanted to say that for so long-” Wilson put a finger over Wes’s lips and moved closer to his face.

“You’re welcome.” The scientist moved his mouth closer to the mine’s ear, the heavy, warm breath causing him to shiver. “Pleasantries later. I’m only going to say this once. I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to choose right here or on the throne.” Wes swallowed a lump in his throat, breath shallow and mind buzzing. 

“P-pardon?”

“Tch.” Sharp objects grazed against Wes’s neck, a moan escaping his lips when the man on top of him started sucking. What was it about this man and the balance between pain and pleasure he gave that made him so irresistible? “I told you. I was only saying it once. You’ve lost your chance to choose.” He latched onto Wes’s neck again, lower than before, harder than before. He couldn’t help let out another moan as he cling tightly to Wilson. The suit he was wearing was silky and cold, a contrast to his own hot hands which were beginning to sweat. 

Wilson could feel the racing pulse of the other man’s jugular with his tongue. Wondering how fast he could get it, he ran a hand down the mime’s side and thigh, causing him to squirm. The urge to relieve himself from the building pressure was immense, perhaps it was time to finish his little experiment. Hooking his fingers into the waist of the other man’s pants he yanked them down, exposing Wes’s groin to the open air. 

Wes’s heart leapt into his throat at the motion, breaths becoming shallower. Wilson stood and undid his pants, flashing a grin sharp grin as he did so. “Turn around, on your knees.” After a moment of staring Wes got onto his knees, shy to turn around however. Walking a small semicircle around Wes, he then squatted behind him, running his free hand down their spine, causing them to whimper and arch their back. Moving his hand from the back to the front of the other man, Wilson took a hold of Wes’s member. 

“Oh pitié…”

“Still happy to participate in my experiment?~”

“O-oui.” Putting his other hand into the mime’s hair, groping it roughly, he used his new hostage as leverage, moving Wes’s head down and back end up in one swift motion. With a sharp motion both men let out cries, a primal urge sweeping over the both of them. Wilson had never felt such raw desire, instinctively he pushed himself in and out, breath becoming shorter with every thrust. Wes on the other hand couldn’t help but quiver. The hand in his hair kept him firmly held down, the jostling from the other man creating pleasures inside and outside his body.

The moans and gasping breaths from the man below him only encouraged Wilson to move with more vigour. He could feel sweat forming on his brow, blood re-routing from his brain to the throbbing organ between his legs. The sounds coming from Wilson were rivalling those of the hounds, his focus going to the rising pressure.

Wes couldn’t take it, an assault from both sides and the period of abstaining made him reach his climax faster than he would have preferred. Whimpering, he felt the hot mess form on the hand holding him. Where was his self-control? Embarrassed and exhausted he tried to get air back into his lungs and blood to his head. 

Wilson felt the warmth on his hand and moved it, digging his nails into the tender flesh of the man’s inner hip. That extra bit of grip finally allowed him to reach his own climax, crying out and raking his nails down the man’s back as he did.

The cavern was silent, apart from the heavy breathing of the two men.

Wilson was the first to move, withdrawing and running a hand through his hair. Wes let his legs come out from underneath him and rolled onto his back. Everything ached; his hair from being pulled, his back from Wilson clawing at him, his legs from being bent under him and of course his... well... backside... Wilson sat on the mime’s stomach, causing him to wince as he was still sensitive.

Wilson tried to slow his breath, moving close to the other man’s face. “This was a fun experiment. I’ll invite you again another time. I need to take your voice back meanwhile.” Wilson leant down, kissing the man again and then he plunged a spear of shadow through the mime’s chest, killing them near instantly. Blood sprayed into Wilson’s mouth with a chocked gurgled from the mute. He pulled away from the dead man’s lips and examined the both of them. What a mess... Body fluids everywhere... Running his tongue over his lips Wilson noticed a distinct silence, his former self had been silent this entire time. He chuckled, a grin on his face. Finally! He shut him up! 

Meanwhile Wes shot up in his tent, heart racing, an uncomfortable warmth in his pants. Gripping his chest, the mime slowed his breathing. Was that all a dream?  Shaking his head in disbelief Wes lay back down in the tent. Why did he just have some dark sexual fantasy about the man who saved him? It left him with an uncomfortable feeling in his mind and in his heart. Weird fucking dream...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated AN:  
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	2. Prompt: Follow up: Something fresh... Wes punishing Wilson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Role swap

* * *

Wes felt the chill of a stone floor beneath him, something he had become accustomed to all too well. He got to his feet, pitch black surrounding him on all sides except for the thin walkway lit by torches. He knew the drill; walk to the throne, go over the pleasantries, have sex, wake up. At first Wes had been confused, thinking the ordeal was nothing more than a wet dream. Until it happened a few times that is. Then he realised he was being brought somewhere as he slept through unnatural means. 

He didn’t mind it. He quite liked Wilson, even under all the shadows. He wasn’t dismissive, even though he only brought Wes here for sex he actually seemed to enjoy the company. The other man was rough and teasing but there was also an underlying layer of tenderness that never made Wes feel like just an object being used. Probably the reason why he didn’t mind coming back. Butterflies began to stir in his stomach when the throne and Wilson drew closer. The other man was sitting, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair, his face different from the smug grin he was used to seeing upon his arrival. The mime walked over and leant in for a kiss, an action that allowed him to speak if Wilson so chose. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to or not with him in this mood.

“Bonsoir Monsieur.” He was, thank goodness. “You look troubled.”

“I have a proposition for you.”  A what? “An offer of sorts.” What on earth would he want to offer him? “Are you willing to hear it?” 

“Oui…”

“I’d like you to stay here… with me…” Cocking his head, Wes took a step back subconsciously.

“Am I not already?”

“No, no I mean stay, stay. No more waking up back in that tent.”

“Oh.” Staying as in living here? This was kinda just a sex thing, wasn’t it? Wes wasn’t sure he could bare with constant vigorous attention from this man, the odd night here and there was more than enough. Besides, this cavern was unpleasant and Wilson was the only reason he put up with it. “Uh, merci, but no.”

“Why?”

“I… I don’t like this place.”

“We can change it. You and I.”

“Monsieur, as much as I do like our encounters, I do not feel it would be… healthy for me to stay.” The sex itself was fine but what would he make him to in-between? All Wes could see would be him ending up being treated like a thing to be used, chained to Wilson’s side like a sex slave. It was true Wilson had shown underlying tenderness but he didn’t tend to show it outright, he didn’t want to consider staying without some true compassion being shown. The other man stood up suddenly, causing the mime to jump back a little.

“There would be no starvation, no giants, no elements to brave. You’ll be perfectly healthy, constantly.”

“That’s not quite what a mean. It’s just. There hasn’t been much commitment. I do not even know what we are. Les amoureux? Des connaissance? Animal de compagnie et le maître? I really don’t know.” Wilson slumped back into the throne with a sigh.

“Fair enough.”  He patted his lap, signalling the taller man to sit.

“I would like to leave monsieur.”

As much as Wilson had tried to avoid the truth, he could no longer ignore it. What had started as an experiment had developed into something more to him. He had feelings for Wes, feelings he tried to mask with sex and reasoning.  _It was a biological desire hardwired into the human brain, nothing more. That buzz in the back of his brain when the other man kissed him was nothing more than chemicals. All he was doing was indulging, it meant nothing._ Yet he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to run his hands through their hair and hear their gasps in his ears. He  **wanted**  Wes to feel good.

“Sit, facing away from me.”

“Monsieur Wilson.”

“Please.” The mime sighed, taking a seat and closing his eyes as Wilson massaged his shoulders. He didn’t often use such a soft tone or touch, he would see where it would go. “You know I have no intention of hurting you. It was merely an offer. We’ll continue as per usual? I noticed you got frustrated at the koalaphant today, at least you got it in the end.” Wes turned his head, frowning. Uh-oh. He really wasn’t amused... “No small talk? Alright then.” The king took a moment to consider his options, the mime would not be in the mood for anything at this rate, nor would he get him to change his mind about his offer. What could he say to change his mind? Perhaps he couldn’t say anything, he’d have to show him. “I have another idea. Perhaps if I can give you a taste of what it would be like to stay here with me, I’ll also let you have complete control of the situation. When you’re done, all you have to do is say the word.” The other man stood and crossed his arms, facing Wilson. “Ah-uh, let me rephrase. If you’re done and want to go all you have to do is will it.” With a sigh the taller man dropped his arms, resting his hands on his hips.

“You really want this, don’t you?”

“I do.” 

Wilson seemed sincere. He even offered to let him be in charge, that was perhaps even the first time he offered it so blatantly. “One night. One try. Oui?” The other man stood, taking the mime’s hand and kissing it.

“Oui. Merci Wes.”

In an instant Wes felt cold inside and out, his vision encased in writhing black. There were voices whispering. They were inside him. And just as it had begun, it ended. He felt different. Empowered. Splaying a palm he could feel Them, writhing just beneath the surface. A small shadowy mass formed in his hand, malleable like clay but also fluid like water. Is moulded and contorted to his whim. No wonder Wilson was like how he was. It was rather intoxicating to feel such power.

“Well? How do you feel?” Giving a smirk in response he looked down at himself, this would not do.

Wilson watched eagerly as the mime snapped his fingers, a flourish of shadows encasing him and giving him a new look. It was very noir, no colour except for a bright red scarf and painted cheeks. Seemingly satisfied he looked to Wilson, his expression looking like Wilson had inconvenienced him somehow. “Are you satisfied? You look absolutely ravishing.” Silence. What was going on behind those dark shades?

Ravishing. Such a hungry sounding word. Then again Wilson was a sex-hungry wolf, tearing into his flesh every chance he got. Pinning him, flipping him, forcing him to his knees and all while pleasuring himself in a dominant manor. Perhaps Wes could use this opportunity to turn the hierarchy on its head.

“Monsieur. You have not shown me any true acts of kindness. I do not want to stay here for fear of becoming nothing but a toy.”

Of course he was apprehensive, that was quite true. But that was also due to the fact he tried to smother his feelings with the act. “Give me a chance to. Please. I’ll-” The mime pressed something against his lips, something leathery. A riding crop? Where did that come from? He was adapting to the shadows well, already moulding them.

The mime shook his head. No. Wilson was good at talking, good with words. He’d have to work for those words just like he made Wes work for his. “Not a word unless I let you.”

“What?” The crop smacked into his cheek harshly, leaving a hot stinging sensation in its wake. “Did you just hit me?!” His other cheek started stinging, he brought a hand up to touch the spot, feeling a welt. Wes was actually serious about the talking thing, he was actually punishing him for talking. It was… surprisingly arousing.

“Next word I won’t be so gentle.” Wilson let out a throaty chuckle, flinching as Wes raised the crop again. He wanted his actions to be the focus, now he had no choice. The question was did Wes want to be intimate? One way to find out. The scientist stood from the throne, brushing his fingers on the other man’s painted cheeks. He then leaned in to kiss his neck. There was no retaliation, but no encouragement either. Wilson pulled back to look Wes in the eyes but only met the dark lenses of his sunglasses. The mime raised an eyebrow, pressing on the scientist's head. Keep going.

As Wilson went to press his lips against the other man’s neck the pressure on the top of his head increased, driving him further down until he needed to be on his knees to be comfortable; and that’s where he stopped. Wilson furrowed his eyebrows. He was usually the one receiving this, not giving it. Not that he couldn’t do it, no, he would give the best oral the Constant had ever seen! 

What in earth was taking him so long to make a move? The man was staring at his crotch as if it were some visual puzzle. He brought the crop down on the back of the scientist’s neck, causing him to jolt back into consciousness. Wilson’s hands moved the belt around Wes’s waist and with a smirk he smacked the back of Wilson’s hands with the crop.

“Why did you-” The complaint was cut short with a firm hit to the cheek, Wilson looked up, confusion on the man’s face. What a first; confusion. That man had always looked so confident. He stumped the scientist. With a growing grin the mime brought one of his gloved hands to his mouth and pulled it off slowly with his teeth as the kneeling man watched, letting the fabric fall onto his face. If that didn’t get the message across, Wes wasn’t sure what would.

His cheeks were burning, the pain sending pin and needles down his spine. Wilson put his hands around the mine’s waist and bit onto their belt buckle, trying his best to manoeuvre his tongue to loosen the damned thing. After a few clumsy attempts he hooked a tooth into the gap of the fabric, finally pulling it loose. He was victorious! With a firm pull he was able to get to work. Yes… the task at hand… the… oral… The crop hit the back of Wilson’s neck again, encouraging him to continue. But what would he do? What had Wes done in his place? Wilson wrapped his lips around Wes, supporting his length with his tongue. He heard a sigh escape from the taller man and then they were moving, a hand grasping his hair firmly to keep him in place. 

Wes slumped into the throne, a hand in Wilson’s hair. He was beginning to understand why Wilson did things the way he did; the power, the pleasure, the control. If he was going to be in charge for one night, he was going to make Wilson know exactly what it felt like to be on the receiving end of someone’s sexual attention and nothing else; then maybe he would think twice before asking him to stay. 

Wilson hadn’t realised how arousing sucking someone else’s cock could be, the breathy moans, the taste, the satisfaction in knowing he was pleasuring Wes; it had all made him rather excited himself. Swiftly the scientist undid his own zipper and begun to stroke himself as he took Wes deeper into his mouth. Wilson let out a purr and Wes firmly yanked his hair; as an act of retaliation he pressed his teeth firmly into the mime’s shaft.

“MERDE!” The other man’s member grazed the back of Wilson’s throat and he pulled away, gagging and spluttering. “Le salaud!” With a chuckle he looked back at Wes; it was hard to tell if he was shocked or mad.

In reality it was a strange mix of both. How dare he have the audacity to do something like that and how did it make him so aroused? He wanted to play rough? Fine. They would play rough. Placing a foot on Wilson’s chest Wes pushed hard, causing the scientist to fall onto their back.

“Sorry dear, did I make you upset?~” Why couldn’t he just do as he was told? Obviously, the hitting wasn’t enough of a deterrent. What could he do instead?

“Turn around.”

“What’s the magic word?”

“I thought I said you weren’t allowed to speak.”

“What are you going to do? Hit me?~” His cheeks were already red from the crop, the pain seemed to be having the opposite effect to its intended purpose. There were more... sensitive areas. Forming the riding crop from shadows again he struck it against Wilson’s exposed member, the man hissed and jolted suddenly. Oh, how he loved the shocked face Wilson kept giving him tonight. Twirling his finger to signal to the scientist to turn around, he stepped off the man’s chest; who in turn obeyed obediently. That was more like it. A good little lap dog. What else could he do to get back at the cur for biting him. He hit the crop against Wilson's bare backside as hard as he could, the man smothered a cry. He struck again and then pulled the man’s body closer to his own, leaning over to listen to the other man. Silence apart from the shallow gasps coming from Wilson.

“Tres bien. You’re learning.” He didn’t quite trust Wilson to give him oral anymore, but his own throbbing needed to be taken care of.

The strike against his most tender body part was more than a little uncalled for, although he sort of asked for it with his behaviour. As the mime let go of him, he braced for another lash across his cheeks, instead something cold pressed against the entrance of his backside. He was no stranger to what was happening, it was just, he was usually-no-always on the other end of the action. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it; the slick feel of shadows and the firm object inside him made him completely speechless. He gritted his teeth as his sweet-spot was grazed. He clenched his fists and pressed his forehead against the ground he smothered a moan. Perhaps he should let Wes be dominant more often... Every fervent thrust sent a shiver up and down his spine, the sounds of heavy breathing filling his ears. He needed to be touched... even if he had to do it himself... While reaching down, the mime gave a hard buck of the hips and pressed Wilson's face harshly against the floor. “Non. Only when I say you can.”

“W-wes please~” Another firm buck caused him to hiss and whimper.

“No talking~” Wes had backed Wilson into a corner and he was guiltily enjoying every moment. He wanted to make all sorts of sounds for the mime but bit his tongue instead, focusing on the building pressure. Nails dug into his shoulder, the other hand beginning to caress the throbbing organ between his legs. He couldn’t help the cry that escaped his lips, followed by a loud moan echoing throughout the caverns.

Their breaths became shorter and heavier. The thrusts harder and more frequent. Sounds from both men went from whimpers to moans. It was just pure ecstasy, each totally focused on one another.

Wilson was the first to succumb to the pleasure, leaving a mess as he gasped for air. It didn’t take Wes long to follow, reaching his climax and making his own mess. Separating himself from the scientist Wes stood back, adjusted his sunglasses and ran a hand through his hair. Sweat covered his scalp and caused his clothes to stick to his back. That got a little more out of hand than he intended...

“So?” Wilson said breathlessly, turning to face Wes. So, what? “Are you staying?” Oh. Was he?

Wilson could see the apprehension on his face. He still wasn’t convinced. “You and I here, for as long as we want. You can stay like this. D-dominate me. Please?”

The mime looked him up and down, considering his options. This  _was_  fun... but still.

“Non. Merci.” Wes was surprised to see genuine hurt in Wilson’s expression. “This... is just sex. You didn’t prove anything.” Wes flicked his wrist and send shadows through Wilson’s body, just as he had done many times to him. Although it didn’t seem to have the same effect as it did on Wes.

Wilson felt the spines impale various areas of his body, he had already been rejected, no need to rub salt in the wound. 

“Then, LEAVE!” He scowled and swung his arm, a bolt of shadow piercing the mime’s heart. 

Wes woke up before he hit the ground, his memory of the dream was fuzzy and he tried his best to remember what happened but the images danced just outside of his reach. His body was covered in sweat, a warm mess in his pants. Something felt different this time though, he felt a pain in his chest, a lingering one rather than a sharp pain he sometimes awoke to. Crawling out of the tent and into the light of the fire he glanced at his chest, a scar lay across his heart, from his clavicle to the bottom of his ribs. That was new...

Meanwhile Wilson took himself off of the spines Wes had sent through him and covered himself, brushing down his suit and slumping back into the throne. Ungrateful bastard. He pounded his fists against the arms of the throne and screamed into the cavern as loud as he could, the cries of unseen creatures ceasing as if they first to make sound would be on the receiving end of the king’s wrath. After a few moments of silence and huffing he composed himself and sat up straight. He would just wait, wait for Wes to die and start again when he had no memory; maybe he’d even go play with someone else to drown his sorrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated AN:  
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